


Faithfully

by MizJoely



Series: Khanolly [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Knotting, Omegaverse, Smut, angel au, khanolly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6268708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Runaway human and Omega Molly Hooper is chased down by Khan, Alpha leader of the humans and angels, for daring to attack another angel - one who tried to force himself on her. A sword duel commences, followed by a very different sort of entanglement between the two of them. (As if any other outcome was possible with this pairing!) STORY RETITLED</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Edge of the Blade

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Runaway](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070153) by [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely). 



> Look, Ma, I did a Khanolly omegaverse version of my Sherlolly angel!lock story “Runaway”! Many thanks to irisang for helping me with the swordfighting in this tale, and to lilsherlockian1975 for reading it over and helping me decide to make the second chapter from Molly's POV (chapter 1 is all Khan, baby).

 

“You may as well come out, I know you’re in there. I can smell you, little one.”

Khan’s jet black wings rose and fell on his shoulders, the only movement he made as the rumbling demand fell from his lips. She would know who he was, even if she’d never been this close to him before, and that to fail to obey could mean her death, Omega or not. The physical emblem of his power, the sword aptly named Vengeance, was held loosely in his right hand, blade pointed downward as he waited patiently for his prey to emerge from the dense clump of underbrush into which she’d obviously gone to ground moments before his arrival.

However, the light rustling sound didn’t come from that copse, it came from the underbrush directly behind him. He whirled, chagrined and amused in turn at the fact that the runaway Omega had managed to trick him.  _ She laid down a scent trail for me to follow and then circled around behind me while I was looking in the wrong place. Clever girl. _

Clever, yes, but he couldn’t allow his admiration for her get in the way of the fact that she’d injured and nearly killed one of his guards. The fact that Marcus was both an angel and an Alpha, while she was human and an Omega (even if she had been trained in weapons use by Mary, his most trusted human vassal and wife to his second in command and fellow angel Johann) had already impressed him enough to take it upon himself to track her down. He, the leader of them all, had decided she was more than worth his time and attention even though he had Hunters whose sole job was to deal with insurrection in the ranks.

She should be honored, he mused as he met her gaze for the first time. Her eyes were brown and very large in her pale face, making her mouth appear smaller than it actually was, especially now with her lips pinched together. Her hair was brown as well, a far lighter shade than her eyes and pulled back in a sensible braid that fell nearly to her waist. But it was her scent that caught his attention the most; his nostrils flared and twitched with appreciation, and he felt his cock stirring beneath his kilt. Her scent was enticing, that of an Omega on the cusp of her first (long delayed, as she was nearing her twentieth year) Heat. Spicy and sharp with…not fear, as he first believed, but desperation tinged with defiance. Mmm, no wonder Marcus had attempted to make her his.

He was vain enough to wonder if she appreciated his own not-inconsiderable physical attributes, especially his magnificent black wings, which he knew made a striking contrast to his pale, well-muscled flesh. Flesh that was mostly bared to her view - his hairless chest uncovered, his arms clothed only in black leather wrist-guards, his black-and-grey tartan kilt slung low on his hips, his legs bare except for the sandals strapped to his feet. He wondered too if she found his other attributes as pleasing as his many previous conquests had told him: his black hair, sleeked back from his forehead; his blue-green eyes with their cat-like slant; his mouth with its sensuous lips meant for kissing the breath out of eager young Omegas like the one standing before him clad in a simple brown tunic and trews...

“I won’t go back. I won’t have him.”

Her words jolted him out of his musings. He quirked an eyebrow at the determination in her voice, in the set line of her mouth, the very outline of her slender form nearly quivering with the intensity of it. Her hair, he decided distractedly, was more cinnamon than brown, and that spice was the note that dominated her scent. Cinnamon and a hint of something sharper and more alkaline. Lye, perhaps. A closer examination was clearly called for.

But not now. She had her own sword held tightly in both hands, the blade pointed skyward but nonetheless a clear threat against him – him! – and if it wasn’t already clear from her words and scent and determined expression, that movement told him she wouldn’t come quietly. “You’re an Omega,” he said, his own sword still held point downward. He refused to take the threat of an Omega this close to Heat seriously – how could he? More importantly,  _ why _ should he? He was Khan, her liege lord, to whom she’d sworn fealty from the minute she was able to properly understand what the words meant. He was an angel and she was a human; he was faster than her, stronger, with far better reflexes and…

He gave a surprised shout as the edge of her weapon struck him in the wrist above the leather guard, leaving a narrow gash and drawing blood. He stared at the injury in near shock, then narrowed his eyes and raised his blade, no longer allowing himself to be distracted by either her or his own foolish arrogance in believing her to be no threat.

“Molly Hooper,” he said, lips lifted in a snarl as she backed further away, sword once again at the ready, “Omega or not you know I cannot let this go unpunished. You’ve drawn blood from two angels now.”

“He tried to force himself on me,” she retorted as she came to a wary stop near a patch of thick undergrowth. The dense foliage that surrounded them worked in her favor; he had to keep his wings tightly furled in order to avoid entangling them. “Our laws say I have the right to choose my own mate!”

“Our laws also say that the punishment for a human who attacks an angel is death,” he pointed out, then he feinted toward her with the point of his blade. She moved to deflect it, and he changed the angle of his thrust at the last moment, catching it in the quilted fabric of her sleeve and drawing blood from her bicep. The coppery scent of it mingled with the smell of his own blood and her sweet Omega aroma. His breath quickened, although not with exertion; no, with something else – excitement, arousal. All for this rebellious subject of his, this petite woman who finally showed signs of fear as well as pain from the small injury he’d given her. Like for like; she’d cut him first, after all. And oh, wouldn’t Johann and Mary howl with laughter at the fact that a mere slip of a girl had drawn first blood! Granted a wound so slight it had already healed, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

“It was self-defense, the law allows for that!” she cried as she managed to block his next thrust. She dodged to the left, scrambling to avoid the thorny bush behind her. The overgrown terrain was nearly as treacherous to her as it was to him. “I won’t have him, I don’t want him!” There was a rising sense of panic in her voice and scent, alongside the passionate determination. He thought he saw her eyes dart toward his bare chest for a split second before once again meeting his. There seemed to be something slightly different about her scent as well, something that spoke to a very male, very Alpha part of himself, and he knew without a doubt how this would all end.

Every Alpha must prove himself to a potential mate. Marcus had arrogantly assumed that simply being who he was would be enough. Khan knew better.

They traded a furious set of blows, although in light of his new understanding of the subtleties of their confrontation – subtleties he doubted she yet fully grasped – he continued to hold back, to test her. He wanted to see how far she would go to avoid being taken prisoner and returned to the redoubt from whence she’d fled after leaving Marcus lying bleeding on the armory floor with a dagger in his side. An injury from which he would recover, of course, but one he more than deserved for attempting to take an Omega against her will - although of course that wasn’t the story Marcus had told, his scent too flooded with rage and humiliation for any hint of deception to be clearly read.

He would deal with the other angel after he and Molly returned to the redoubt. After this mating dance had come to its inevitable conclusion. As soon as the testing was complete, when she’d shown her mettle and he’d demonstrated his worthiness as a potential mate…she would be his.

The thought brought another spike of lust as he lunged forward and once again drew blood, this time nicking her in the precise spot where she’d stabbed Marcus. She gasped in pain, although the cut was a shallow one. Then her nostrils flared and she gasped again, eyes widening in stunned comprehension as his scent wafted to her on the breeze.

He smiled as they once again traded blows, speaking over the clang of metal on metal as she backed away from him. “Yes, little one. There is no chance of Marcus ever making you his. You’re destined for greater things.”

Khan moved forward and aimed a blow at her head with the flat of his blade; she dropped to one knee, slicing horizontally across his abdomen, a wound that would be fatal for a human opponent. He let out a grunt of combined surprise and pain, baring his teeth in an approving grin as he waited for the injury to seal itself back up enough for him move against her again.

“I, I won’t be taken against my will,” she protested, eying him warily, sword at the ready. But the protest was weak; he’d raised conflict in her soul with his words, he could smell it as clearly as if she’d screamed it aloud. Confusion, cautious excitement, arousal. She was still afraid, but he knew it was only because she had no idea how far he would take this battle. She must surely know he was deliberately prolonging it, that he could take her down within seconds if he so chose. His prowess with the sword – with any weapon he put a hand to – was legendary. The fact that she’d been willing to even attempt to pit her own skills against his spoke volumes of either her foolhardiness or her desperation.

No, it spoke of her bravery. A very attractive attribute in a potential mate. He wondered briefly how he’d overlooked her before, humble though her position had been, then dismissed the thought as unimportant. 

He saw her now, and was more than ready to make her his.

Impatience overtook him as the flaring pain from his abdominal wound began to ease; there was no point in continuing this ridiculous conflict, not when the outcome was certain. With a final flurry of carefully calculated blows, he maneuvered them around until suddenly Molly found herself backed up against a spreading oak; with a cry of rage she sought to escape the trap he’d sprung on her, but it was too late. As she swung her sword towards him he moved with lightning speed to grasp her wrist, twisting and squeezing just hard enough to disarm her as he held his blade to her throat.

She cried out in pain as her sword fell to the ground; he twisted her arm behind her back, trapping it between her body and the tree but keeping his hand firmly on her wrist.

“Yield,” he demanded, his voice rough with a combination of adrenaline and desire. The blood was thrumming in his veins, and he could see her pulse pounding in her throat. The smell of her Heat had intensified in the short time since their duel had commenced, nearly driving him mad with want.

“No,” she whispered, staring up at him. But her eyes were nearly black with desire, and her scent…He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Her scent told him that the word was a lie.

Still, he would have her verbal consent; she’d been correct when she claimed the right to choose her own mate. Even an Omega deep in the thralls of Heat could say no, and any Alpha who continued to force himself on her would face the most severe of consequences, even if he’d spilled over into the madness of Rut. The laws his ancestors had put into place when they first rose to power thousands of years ago still stood, for angels and humans alike.

“Yield,” he said again, this time lowering his sword, dropping it to the ground as carelessly as if it wasn’t his most prized possession. He reached out with his now-free hand and caressed her face, lowering his head to breathe in her scent at the base of her throat where it was richest.

“No,” she said, but the word was a long, drawn-out moan and her free hand was sliding up his chest, coming to rest over his fast-beating heart. It was instinct that brought his lips to her throat, grazing the heated flesh with his teeth, raising a second moan from her lips.

“Yield,” he whispered for a third time, resting his forearm against the tree trunk above her head and releasing his hold on her wrist. “Please.”

The word was unplanned, one he rarely voiced, but it acted as the catalyst she needed to finally succumb to the burning need they both shared. With a soft cry she threw her arms around his neck, tilting her head although his mouth was already at her throat. “Yes,” she sighed, pressing her body tightly against his. “Yes.”

With a growl of pure male possessiveness, he claimed her mouth with his. There was no tenderness in the kiss, only want and need and primal lust. She responded eagerly, soft mewling cries escaping her throat when they parted for breath, throbbing against his lips when they came together again. He explored her mouth with his tongue, feeling her enthusiastic response even as he recognized her inexperience in carnal matters. That was a tragedy, that one so passionate had never experienced lovemaking, but as a male and an Alpha it pleased him that he would be the one to teach her.

The  _ only  _ one, he resolved as he wrenched her clothing from her body, too impatient and on the edge of Rut to care if they were ruined or not. He would clothe her in the finest silks and furs once he’d flown her back to the redoubt, present her as his mate and queen, find mates or at least homes for his many concubines, give her anything she demanded and everything she would never think to demand…

_ Madness,  _ he thought as her naked form was finally revealed to him. True madness must have overtaken him, to have such thoughts about an Omega he hadn’t even bedded yet. But he knew, deep within his very soul, that this connection he felt with her, the burning need to have her as his, wouldn’t fade with her Heat. She would give him magnificent children and be the warrior bride he’d been waiting for his entire life. No matter how often he’d been urged to make one of his concubines his mate, to breed with them, he’d always held back, and now he knew why.

He’d been waiting for  _ her _ .


	2. Open Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: Story is now called "Faithfully" because "Fallen" just never fit properly. Also kudos to those who know what band all chapter/story titles are inspired by. (Should be pretty easy!)

Oh, her life had taken too many turns for her to count; she was dizzy with it all. From lowliest soldier-maid in the Omega ranks to unfortunate recipient of an angel’s unwanted attentions to fugitive, to this: her naked body pressed closely to that of the leader of them all. Khan. The one Alpha she’d never dared ever hope to meet, let alone become intimate with.

She’d never expected him to come after her himself, not when he had so many experienced Hunters at his call; on the cusp of Heat as she had been when she fled, she’d thought he’d send an Alpha already Mated or a Beta, possibly even another Omega. But no, he’d come after her himself, and although that realization had turned her blood cold when he’d first alit in the clearing where they’d fought their one-sided duel, there was nothing but a fiery, combustive warmth there now. Khan’s lips were on her throat, his hands cradling her face, hands that had been rumored to have crushed many a foe’s head. Gentle hands, firm but offering no pain, his fingers threading in her hair, teasing it from its braid to let it flow wildly over her shoulders.

She moaned as she felt the hard length of him against her hip, so thick, so hot even against the fever-warmed flesh of her body. She dared to reach down, to slide her hand along the silky soft skin covering the steel-hard shaft. She could barely fit her hand around him, and felt a shudder of mixed desire and apprehension wrack her frame at the thought of him piercing her with that turgid mass.

She looked into his eyes, shuddering anew at the way his changeable blue-green irises had shrunk to mere rims around the blackness of his expanded pupils. She wondered briefly if her own eyes were similarly altered, the dark brown mere slivers against the blackness, then forgot everything as Khan took her mouth in another demanding kiss.

She was still bleeding from the shallow wounds he’d cut into her body at wrist and side, and the lingering aroma blended with the smell of her own Heat and Khan’s natural, purely masculine scent into a mouth-watering melange. A trickle of wet between her legs became a veritable flood when Khan bit down on her neck just below her ear, rutting against her and letting out a guttural moan as she tightened her grip on his shaft. Her other hand had slid up his chest to his shoulder, brushing against the spot where his furled wings rose above their heads.

“Lie with me,” he commanded roughly, pulling her away from the harsh bark of the tree against which he’d trapped her. She went willingly, coming to rest atop her own ruined clothing, Khan’s kilt balled up beneath her head and his wings fluttering high enough to block the sun from her gaze till all she could see, feel or breathe was _him_.

His mouth was everywhere: trailing damp kisses down her body, teasing her tender nipples, wrenching soft cries from her throat and turning the ache in her cunt into a deep, throbbing need. The feel of his tongue against her center, his thumbs parting the protective outer folds in order to expose her to him entirely, brought a series of sharper cries from her as she dug her fingers into the mossy earth on which she lay.

It took but a single flick of his tongue over her clit to send her hurtling over the edge; her entire body went rigid, her bottom lifting up off the ground, her head thrown back and sharp cries erupting from her throat as she screamed out her release.

He waited for her to settle back into herself before covering her with his body, those glorious wings now curved protectively around them both. “You will give me children,” he whispered as he nuzzled her throat, flicking his tongue against the sensitive spot over her pulse. The very spot where an Alpha would make a bonding mark for the Omega he’d chosen as his lifemate. Her? Could it truly be what he was saying to her? Unless he bit her, mixed his saliva with her blood, there would be no child quickening in her womb no matter how many times they coupled during her Heat. That was the difference between having an angelic Alpha as a mate, rather than a human one.

She still couldn’t comprehend it, and she needed to understand before giving him the answer he was clearly impatient to hear. “Why? Why me?”

“You challenge me like no other, make my blood boil and sing in my veins,” he replied, nuzzling her throat, covering it with sharp nips that would raise the blood to the surface but not breaking the flesh. “Our children will be magnificent.” He gazed down at her, and she saw more than desire in his blue-green eyes, saw what she suspected few people ever did: naked honesty. “I’ve been waiting for you, Molly. Holding back on producing heirs to carry on my legacy, to rule after my death, and now I know why.” He lightly brushed her hair from her forehead. “You’re the woman my soul cries out for, and you hold my future in the palm of your hands.” He dropped soft, worshipful kisses on each palm, as if in illustration of his words, and Molly felt her heart thrill to his words. There could be no deception between them in this moment; she would be able to smell it on him, if he was lying to her for some unfathomable reason.

And it thrilled her to the core that he wasn’t.

“Yes,” she said, reaching up and resting her cupped hand along the edge of his face, her thumb tracing the sharp arch of his cheekbone. “I accept you as my Alpha, as my mate.”

With those words, and the press of her lips against his, Molly knew her fate was sealed...and that it was one she never could have imagined in her most fevered dreams. Khan’s fingers wound their way into her hair and he nipped at her lips until she opened for him. His tongue was a welcome invader, as was his manhood between her legs. She felt the heavy weight of him over her, his chest pressing against her aching nipples, and opened her legs further, giving over control, letting the scent of her arousal and acceptance fill the air between them.

He inhaled deeply and moved his face lower, burying it in her neck, biting down almost hard enough to draw blood, but not quite. Readying her for the moment to come, when the exquisite blend of pain and pleasure as his saliva mixed with her blood would bring her to orgasm - and ensure the quickening of a child in her womb. Just the thought was enough to bring a veritable flood of fluid from between her legs, and she Khan groaning as he rutted against her.

“I don’t have to ask if you’re ready for me,” he mumbled against her throat, still working the tender flesh between his teeth. With his free hand he reached down between them and readied himself to enter her. “I’m more than eager to hear you crying my name when I give you my Knot and seal our bond.” With no other warning he began pushing inside her, stretching her almost to the point of pain. She laid her hands on his shoulders and he gave a mighty shudder, as if even that slight touch was enough to bring him to the brink. Molly could already feel the tingling ache that signalled her own imminent release - and he had yet to completely fill her, to begin moving against her. Truly she and Khan were meant for one another, if their bodies yearned so desperately to be joined!

He was moving slowly, too slowly even if it was meant as a courtesy to her. Turning her head, she nipped sharply at his ear, the ages-old sign of Omega impatience meant to hurry her mate along. Khan growled and thrust his hips with a sharp movement that brought him completely inside her, causing her to gasp at the burn as he stretched her to her very limits. Oh, he was so large, even for an Alpha, but no other woman would ever again enjoy the sensation of feeling him inside her. With that triumphant thought her release exploded through her body, leaving her shuddering and near-sobbing in its wake.

When she came back to herself, it was to discover that she was clinging to Khan with both arms and legs as if she wished to blend their bodies into one, the way their souls would become one when he tasted her blood. Her hands ached and when she slowly pulled them away she saw blood under her nails, from scratches that would no doubt already be healing were she to look. There were loose feathers on her breast and the ground as well, and her eyes widened at the thought of daring to attack an angel, even if it was fueled by desire rather than anger or hatred.

Khan’s low chuckle eased her panic, and he smoothed back her hair as he smiled down at her. “No worries, little one. I’ve had far worse done to me in battle.” His eyes darkened as he leaned down to kiss her, nuzzling at her lips until she opened for him, then dipping his tongue inside even as he snapped his hips forward. She moaned directly into his mouth, her hands creeping up to his grip his upper arms, although she willed her fingers to stay far from his wings. Then he moved again, and the rising tide of pleasure threatened once again to overwhelm her.

As he moved, so did she, matching his pace as best she could. She could feel his Knot forming, the base of his prick swelling and pressing against her with every thrust. Soon he would force it inside her, give her his seed and sink his sharp teeth into her throat and seal their future.

She couldn’t wait. Literally; she found herself hooking her heels into the backs of his muscular thighs and digging her hands into the round globes of his buttocks, hissing words of encouragement into his ear. No, not encouragement so much as demands, demands that he take her harder, faster; she begged for his Knot, for his bite, for anything and everything he could give her. Her words became a mindless babble, yet he met her every demand, every plea as if pleasing her was his only goal in life.

Sweat dripped from his brow and mingled with the torrents pouring from her body as their joint efforts raised her temperature to volcanic heights. She felt the pleasure growing, sparking like wildfire, and screamed uncontrollably as she felt Khan’s teeth at her throat, tearing the tender flesh and taking in her blood at the same moment he forced his Knot deep inside her. The sensation was like nothing she’d ever experienced, almost too much for her mind and body to take, but the sound of Khan roaring out his completion, the pulse of his seed as it filled her to overflowing, kept her fully in the moment even if all she could do was simply hold him close and wait for her heart to slow its mad, mad beating.

She shivered a bit at the sensation of his mouth on her throat as he continued to suckle at the wound he’d given her. A wound that, when it had healed and formed a scar, would forever act as a symbol of their union.

“No regrets, my mate?” he said as he finally pulled his mouth away from her throat. Her blood stained his lips and teeth, and without thinking she rubbed a finger across the viscous fluid. Her tongue darted out to taste it; with a growl of pure lust, Khan lunged down and captured her mouth with his for another searing kiss.

As he did so she felt his cock throbbing deep within her, and gasped into his mouth as another orgasm ebbed and flowed, the first of many such, or so she’d been taught. The pleasure washed over them both as he curled their bodies so they rested on their sides, Molly held tenderly in his arms with his wings furled against his back and their bodies joined, as they would be for some while yet.

“No regrets,” she finally answered him, when she once again regained the breath and brains to do so. She gave him a shy smile as she reached up and toyed with a lock of his sweat-matted hair, falling so enticingly over his forehead. “And you?”

“None at all,” he replied, quickly and easily. There was no lie in his scent or in the thread of emotion she could feel through their newly-formed bond. “I know I’ll spend the remainder of my days thanking the Gods that I decided to chase after a certain runaway myself, rather than delegating the task to a Hunter.” His lips curved in a delicious, deadly smile that sent goosebumps racing over every inch of her exposed skin. “As soon as we return, my mate, what say you to a very public execution for the one Hunter whose death I believe we both crave?”

“I say _yes_.” Molly cried out the last word as yet another orgasm shuddered through her body, brought on by the thought of Marcus getting exactly what he deserved for his crime. The last thought she spared for him that day, and through all the days that followed while her Heat was upon her, was how very much she looked forward to seeing her mate crush that bastard’s head between his powerful hands.


End file.
